


darkest days of a free man

by Anonymous



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extreme Underage, First Time, M/M, Missing Scene, canonical reference to an epidemic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Struggling on the streets of Ketterdam, Kaz and Jordie think they've struck it lucky when they score some discarded food.But fortune's wheel is still descending, and in the Barrel, nothing comes for free.
Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Jordie Rietveld
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8
Collections: Anonymous, Fandom 5K 2020





	darkest days of a free man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/gifts).



The second morning that Jordie woke up in the Nest, he was too weak to leave it.

He'd joked, the first morning, about wanting to stay comfortable a little longer. That was when their meagre shelter had become the Nest; first he had claimed, to tease Kaz, that it was better than the softest of beds in a fine hotel, or the Ravkan king's own palace bed. When Kaz scoffed, Jordie claimed that it was at least as soft as a haystack - he flicked at a splinter peeling off of one of the old boards, claiming it was a straw - and then a bird's nest, made of scavenged parts. It was that, though there was little softness to be had in it. The Rietveld boys' new home was a pile of old half-broken down wooden crates in the corner of a yard, only a few paces away from the edge of one of the murkier canals. It was only luck that whoever had been set to breaking the boxes up had been lazy, so that enough structure remained to build with, and luck that not just one torn sack but two - musty but dry - had blown in on the wind and been caught there.

It seemed like luck, too, that no one came to oust them that first morning, when Jordie finally dragged himself upright. No one came to the yard, and no one harried them as they shuffled through the streets together in search of food - Jordie unsteady, Kaz' bare feet still tender on the streets, his toes going white with the unaccustomed cold. 

Kaz remembered how it had felt to walk through Ketterdam those first few days fresh from the country. Back then, the cheque representing the sale of the farm had been sewn into the lining of Jordie's old coat, and although its shabbiness gave them some protection, all Kaz could think about was what if Jordie lost it, what if someone stole it. It was the only catastrophe his imagination offered him. Now, a coat itself represented just as much of a gulf between survival and disaster. He hadn't been able to imagine how they'd survive without the money. He'd never imagined how it might feel not to even have enough clothing to keep them warm. But still, now, he feared losing the coat.

They didn't know what Jordie's fever meant, then, but some of the shopkeepers did, and gave them food to be rid of them: raisin-studded buns, turnip pastries, even a long twist of dried meat. Energies replenished, they wandered further in search of work or charity. That was in far shorter supply. Exhaustion set in by mid-afternoon and sent them back to their temporary den - Jordie had reasoned out loud that they should check up on it, to determine whether it would suit them for the coming night as well or whether they needed to find new shelter - but when they found the yard still deserted, they gave up on further plans and simply huddled. The food that they'd carefully tucked into pockets in the morning, thinking themselves thrifty and well-supplied, seemed like a poor supper now, and they were hungry again when they were done with it. 

Kaz clung tightly to Jordie as they curled up to sleep, though Jordie shifted often. When Kaz dreamed, he dreamed he was on one of the ships he'd seen in the harbour, caught in a storm, tossed here and there across the deck, flung now against the railings, now against the lashed cargo. The boards beneath him creaked; Jordie moaned.

The second morning, Kaz pulled at Jordie's shoulder for a good twenty minutes, and then, in growing panic at his brother's mumbled replies, damp forehead, and sour sweat-stink, he said, "Jordie, I'm going to get water," took his brother's shoes (too big for him, but he stuffed them with pieces torn from the sacks) and went out. There were clouds gathering in the sky and he saw the canals bustling with activity, moving goods before the rain came.

He got water. By the wall of a tavern, he found a tall glass with a broken edge, but the tavern's water barrels were well-watched and he moved on rather than trying his luck farther there. When the rain came, he sidled up to a gutter and filled the glass, and drank, ignoring the muddy taste. In Jordie's new coat, bright with hope, for a moment Kaz was the only shining thing in the whole muddy, refuse-strewn canal lane; the men on the barges wore dull colours dimmed by the rain and none of the passers-by looked up to the sky, like he did.

He ran home, filling his glass and drinking where rain spouted off roofs, to bring relief to Jordie's thirst.

It did Jordie good. He woke up properly, and then the words he rasped between his coughs grew more and more coherent. He wasn't happy that Kaz had gone out. When Kaz might have sulked, though, this time he simply shrugged aside Jordie's words. It was clear to both of them that Jordie had barely enough energy for the argument.

In the afternoon, when the rain cleared, Kaz went out again for food.

They'd been warned not to go south, into the meaner streets. But the further south Kaz went, the quieter it was. Later, he learned that the Queen's Lady plague had struck the pleasure district first - crew released from the ship had spread the sickness as wide as a lady's fan, as a winning hand of cards.

He learned a lot of things, later. 

Some sooner.

When Kaz found the food - rich-smelling, not even a little rotten, good bread and fancy things, olives and sliced meats and slivered fruit, in leaf-twists and little straw baskets, dumped outside the back door of a gambling house in an open sack for birds to pick at it - he didn't question it. It was the answer to his prayer, the penitent act of a world that in the last week had been too cruel to innocent boys from the country, and was making amends. With only the faintest twinge of guilt, he picked up the whole jumbled bag, slinging it under his coat, and raced back to Jordie again.

Jordie's brow creased in confusion at the bounty, but he said, "You did well, Kaz."

"You'll see," Kaz said, rocking with eagerness as he crouched beside Jordie in their shelter. If it wouldn't have meant cracking his head on the boxes - or sending the whole Nest tumbling down - he would have bounced. In that moment he didn't care about sore feet swimming in Jordie's shoes, about Mister Hertzoon's treachery. He had brought food home for both of them.

They nibbled at cake and tangy pickled carrots and radishes and slices of beef as delicately as if they were the tavern's fancy clientele. It was going to be all right, Kaz knew. They just had to rest and tomorrow Jordie would be fine, and he'd come up with a plan, and with other clevernesses like today's, Kaz would help to see it through.

Even in the dim shelter, though, Kaz could see the flush spread across Jordie's face. He wasn't coughing any more, but his eyes were too bright. He couldn't seem to track Kaz's face, gaze dropping to Kaz' mouth and throat. 

He was giving off so much heat that Kaz thought he could feel it himself.

"Do you want any more?" Kaz asked. Feed a fever, their father had always said. 

"No," Jordie said, pushing their supplies aside. They'd already gone through the sack carefully, so carefully, looking for anything spoiled or ruined that might ruin the rest.

"Are you cold? I'll come sit next to you." He took off the coat and carefully wedged himself in beside Jordie, arranging the coat across both of their backs. 

His hand brushed Jordie's side, the shirt riding up, and he opened his mouth to apologise - Jordie's skin felt so warm, his own hand must feel like ice - but Jordie said,"Good, that's good," and pressed himself more firmly against Kaz's side, his breath as he spoke washing over Kaz' ear.

Despite the sour, muddy smells drifting in from the canal - despite the faint edge of Jordie's sweat - Kaz felt properly warm, comfortably warm, for the first time in days. Even as he thought that, he felt hotter, eager, comfort replaced with a kind of optimistic energy. Buoyant.

"That was the best meal we've had since we came here," Jordie said.

Kaz laughed. He said, "One day we'll be well-off again, and we'll go back to that inn and order a meal and _pay_ for it."

Later, he knew they'd been paying for it then.

He wanted to be closer to Jordie. He was touching Jordie, but he wanted to be touching him _more_. He snuggled in, and Jordie was turning to meet him, smiling, pleased that he was there.

At nine, he was too old for this, but there was no one to see, and no one to care. He leaned in and tucked his head under Jordie's skin, pressing his whole face to Jordie's throat and shoulder, swallowed up in him.

Jordie made a pleased sound, and then an uncertain one. Kaz lifted his head.

"Kaz, you'll get sick too," Jordie said. 

"I'll get sick anyway," Kaz reasoned. They were sharing the same sacks and the same clothes. "It's okay. We'll look after each other." Despite his improved mood, doubt shivered through him at the thought. Jordie had lost all their money. Kaz hadn't done anything to stop it. They hadn't looked after each other very well so far.

But Jordie was looking at him gratefully and the doubts receded. Kaz lowered his head again and wrapped his arms around his brother's frame - so familiar, almost as wiry as his own. He could hear Jordie's heart pound. His brother's body was burning hot, but he basked in the warmth.

They sat like that for long minutes. Although Kaz knew his skin would no longer be pleasantly cool for Jordie where it touched him, Jordie didn't move to shake him off. He did shift a little, as if uncomfortable, but whenever Kaz started to move away, Jordie tightened his grip. Finally Kaz' back started to ache, and he moved to re-settle himself.

"Kaz," Jordie said, sounding almost frightened.

Kaz looked at him. His big brother's eyes were wide, the pupils huge. Kaz stared at him. He felt as though he'd never really looked at Jordie before, the sharp jaw they'd both inherited from their father, Jordie's eyelashes thicker and curlier than Kaz'. Jordie's cheeks and lips were bright, as though he was a Ravkan saint in a church that a painter had just touched up. 

"What is it?" Kaz asked, not exactly to hear the answer but to hear Jordie's voice and see his lips part and see his eyes focus on Kaz.

"Don't stop touching me, Kaz," Jordie said. "Please."

"I don't want to stop," Kaz promised him, and saw Jordie's pupils grow even wider. "But I should get us more water. I'll be right back."

Jordie's mouth twisted in distress, but he nodded. Kaz nodded back, reassuringly, feeling proud of himself for being the one in charge for now. He ducked out of their shelter, lifted the broken glass carefully, and went to find a gutter still running or an unattended barrel.

When he came back, Jordie reached for him so abruptly they nearly spilled the water. Kaz got him to drink some of it, and some splashed on the bottom of his shirt. Kaz shrugged, and made the best of it, lifting the hem of Jordie's shirt to wipe his damp brow.

He glanced down, and saw his brother's pale stomach, rounded a little with their feast but still taut and defined from all the work on the farm. He remembered his promise, and pressed his free hand to Jordie's skin, covering his navel. Jordie let out a choked sound, a sob, and as Kazu dropped the shirt-hem in his left hand, revealing his brother's face again, he revealed parted lips and a desperate expression.

"What do you need, Jordie?" 

Jordie swallowed. "Kaz.... _Gods_..." He looked so frightened. He held out his arms, and Kaz folded himself into them again, feeling like the comforter of the two of them even though he was the one enveloped. He straddled Jordie's lap and flung his arms around his brother, and Jordie nuzzled his hair, panting.

His heartbeat was still hammering; Kaz thought of Filip's wind-up dogs and imagined them wound and then held back, quivering with the mindless desire to move. Jordie moved under him, pressing his legs open and then back together, forcing Kaz to shift with him. They were burning up together, but Kaz didn't reach for the water again.

Later, he would learn about the food in certain pleasure houses, drugged to heighten pleasure, calibrated to repeat customers who had already built up a tolerance. Later, he would know which discarded food never to touch - or never to steal unless he could eat it alone, sure of being undisturbed as he rode out the need that it inspired.

Now, all he knew was that he _wanted_. He wanted his brother's arms and clenching hands and slick skin. He wanted to climb _inside_ his brother's skin. His prick swelled, heavy, and where he straddled his brother's lap he could feel Jordie's prick filling too. The friction on his thighs, through his trousers, was thrilling, and insufficient. There was almost no thought in his head but _more_.

He lifted his head. Jordie was looking down at him through his long lashes. Kaz surged upwards - his ass sliding along the bulge in Jordie's trousers - and Jordie kissed him.

It was messy. Jordie's lips parted over Kaz', wetting them, and Kaz mashed his lips as though he could grab on to Jordie's with them. Then Kaz felt Jordie's tongue slide into his mouth, big and uncertain, and stuck his own tongue out under it. Jordie spluttered and Kaz fell back, and then Jordie pulled their faces back together to try again.

This was much better. Jordie's tongue swept through Kaz' mouth and Kaz traced Jordie's teeth, their lips working together firmly. Jordie tasted of the cake they'd been eating together and the sweet, mild cheese, and not sour at all. Kaz drank it all in, drank him all down.

They parted, gasping. "Kaz," Jordie said. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"Why not? You want to. It's _good_." Kissing had always seemed disgusting to him before - something adults did for unknown reasons. Now he knew their reasons. It seemed clear to him that he and Jordie couldn't afford to be children any more, alone on the street. This was just part of growing up.

"I shouldn't want to," Jordie said raggedly, which sounded to Kaz like an admission that he did.

"I kissed _you_ ," Kaz pointed out, mulishly. "I'm going to kiss you again." He did, and Jordie didn't stop him. Closed lips pressed against his, and then slowly, reluctantly, Jordie let Kaz' tongue in.

"Maybe it's the fever," Jordie whispered, when they broke for air. "Maybe it'll pass. _Stop_ , Kaz." 

Kaz studied him, doubts creeping in again. Slowly, he pulled his hands back, eased back from Jordie's lap, leaving air between them, although he was so desperate for touch it almost hurt. The smell of Jordie's body had changed to something richer than sweat. Kaz wanted to taste it.

They stared at each other, breathing harshly. "Maybe it'll pass," Jordie said again. Kaz waited, watching his brother, for a sign either way. One breath, two, three, with nothing but air between them.

Then Jordie moaned and pulled Kaz back to him, and Kaz went. Sure of himself now, Kaz pulled at Jordie's shirt, undoing the neat buttons. and wriggled against his skin. "It's all right," he told Jordie. "We'll take care of each other. It's all right."

Jordie, stronger than he'd been in days, pulled Kaz around so that he was sitting in Jordie's lap and Jordie could undo his shirt too. He reached up and hung Kaz' shirt above them from the ragged planks that made their ceiling. "Keep the heat in," he muttered.

"No fear," Kaz answered, and went to work on Jordie's trousers.

He didn't know _exactly_ what he was doing, only that he wanted skin, as much of it as he could get, and from the way his prick strained his trousers, small as it was, he was sure Jordie was feeling the same discomfort. Jordie's moans encouraged him. 

Once it was out, they stared at Jordie's prick together. Kaz had never seen his brother's prick like this, thick and curved, a large vein twining up towards the head, stiff and flushed. It was so much larger than Kaz'.

Jordie reached a hand down towards his prick. "No," Kaz said, and slipped his hand under Jordie's. Jordie began to move his hand up and down and Kaz matched his movements. It felt rough, abrasive, though. Jordie shook his head distractedly, and then took his hand off and licked it and went back to stroking himself with a slick palm. His prick jumped in their hands.

"It's not enough," Jordie muttered.

Kaz thought of Jordie's spit and of the scent coating his hand. Stronger as it was now, it still appealed to him. Awkwardly, he slid back, lying across one of Jordie's legs, and put his mouth to Jordie's prick where moisture beaded.

He looked up at Jordie for approval. Jordie's face was flushed redder than his prick, but he said, "Suck, Kaz."

Kaz sucked, and as he sucked, he ground his own prick shamelessly against Jordie's bony calf.

He could feel the tension in Jordie's thighs - it still wasn't enough, or there was something he wasn't doing right, or he didn't know enough - and then his brother's hands came down to cup his head and pushed and pulled him up and down as Kaz sucked. Kaz felt a moment of relief that Jordie knew what they needed to do and was taking charge, and then he panicked - he could barely breathe. His brother's prick hit the back of his throat and he spluttered around it, pushing Jordie off.

"I'm sorry, Kaz, I'm sorry," Jordie babbled. "I don't know..." Again Kaz felt a hint of anger. His brother _should_ know. It wasn't Kaz' job.

"Tell me what you want," Kaz ordered, a snap in his voice. He'd try again if Jordie wanted it. He wanted touch, and simplicity. Anything at all but his brother's fear and doubt.

Jordie met his eyes, anguished, and then a bitter look spread across his face. "I want to fuck you," he said, a snap in his voice to meet Kaz', punishment for Kaz' anger.

For a long moment Kaz wasn't even sure what Jordie meant. He'd seen their neighbour's stallion with a mare, and cats in heat. But he wasn't a girl...

But he supposed it didn't matter, really. He thought of his hand around Jordie's prick and he thought about how it would feel to press his own prick into something warm and tight. He'd seen bawdy signs in the pleasure district of men and women together and he'd seen men leaving the coffee house together in the company of other men. Maybe this was what they'd gone to do. Assholes were dirty, of course, and playing with your prick was dirty, but maybe they were dirty in similar ways. Ways that went together.

"Then fuck me," he said, rising to the challenge, although his veneer of adulthood slipped; his voice wavered on the shocking, forbidden word.

"I can't," Jordie said.

"Yes, you can. I want you to." He wasn't nearly as sure as he sounded, but he knew he was desperate for something, and the thought of touch inside him gave him a thrill that made his prick jump.

"You don't even know what it means," Jordie said. 

"I do. As much as you do." Kaz was sure of that, at least.

Kaz slid up Jordie's body again and flung his leg over Jordie's lap. He squirmed ineffectively, then - "Help me," he ordered.

Jordie's mouth untwisted, and he nodded, once. Then he reached a hand under Kaz' buttocks and positioned the head of his prick at Kaz' cleft.

It felt... so much bigger than Kaz thought it should have, for how it looked. He had to lift himself up a bit awkwardly on his knees so that Jordie could stretch his opening a little with a finger, and it hurt. Kaz swallowed, but didn't say anything, not with Jordie's eyes on him, anxiously tracking. He'd as good as dared Jordie to do this - he didn't want to back out now.

But it didn't _stop_ hurting, and when, between the two of them, they'd got the head of Jordie's prick into Kaz' ass, Kaz thought from the look on Jordie's face that it was hurting him too.

Jordie eased himself out with his hand. "Maybe spit," he said. Kaz wriggled down and sucked on Jordie's prick again, tasting himself as an unfamiliar sourness - still not as sour as Jordie, earlier this morning, when he had smelled only of fever-sweat.

This time they didn't need Jordie's hand to guide his prick in to Kaz' body, and Kaz told himself it was already a little easier. He had to keep telling himself that. His eyes watered, and he could do nothing to stop Jordie seeing, though when he gasped a little he tried to pretend that it was a sound of enjoyment. It didn't feel as though Jordie was meant to fit. The spit felt like it hadn't done very much. Kaz tightened his jaw - though he tried not to grit his teeth - and pushed himself down, until his buttocks were spread across Jordie's thighs and he didn't think he could sink any lower.

He'd thought... something would be _done_ , then, the way something was accomplished and over when you fitted a foot into a shoe or slid a bolt home on a gate. But there was only the stretch, Jordie's heavy heat re-shaping him. He looked up at Jordie. "There..." he said, a bit experimentally, an invitation for Jordie to show him what to do next.

Jordie placed his hands on Kaz' hips, and began to half-rock, half-lift him, up and down.

"Oh," Kaz said, struggling for breath - each little movement felt as though it knocked the wind out of him, as though with each thrust Jordie's prick found a new fold of his flesh to explore. 

"Oh," Jordie muttered in reply, his eyes dazed, pulse jumping in his throat, shifting Kaz about on his lap with increasing urgency.

It still wasn't - good, exactly, although Kaz no longer desperately craved touch now that he was locked together with Jordie - but sometimes where the base of Jordie's prick moved in him he could feel a kind of pressure that was good. He tried to concentrate on that when it swam into focus, his eyes narrowing. It was something to chase as a distraction from the rough boards under his knees, and the scrape of Jordie's prick in the other places where it felt merely tolerable, and tiredness creeping up on him like the tide washing back up the canal.

And it was good for Jordie. He was gasping out praise for Kaz, telling him he was beautiful and perfect and good, one moment praising how he felt soft, the next praising how he felt hard. "The way you wrap around me, Kaz. It's like nothing else. I want you, I want you, I never want to stop..."

Kaz thought he wouldn't mind getting to stop, but he didn't want to say anything, not when he'd started this, not when Jordie was so overwhelmingly pleased with him. He was getting the rhythm of it. He moved up and down on Jordie's prick, working his thigh muscles to their utmost, and Jordie's hands fell away from his hips and he could find the angle that hit that spot near the entrance of his ass every time. He could do this. He could do what they needed.

"Kaz, Kaz, Kaz," Jordie murmured, and then he put his hand up to Kaz' chest, his thumb sweeping lightly across Kaz' nipple, and held him still with the full length of Jordie's prick sunk in him. That prick spasmed now, and Jordie moaned openly, and Kaz felt liquid spill from his brother's prick inside him and trickle down through him.

Jordie let his hand fall from Kaz's chest. Still just with his thumb, he stroked Kaz' own stiff prick, jutting between them, tenderly, almost lazily. Kaz sucked in a breath at how good it felt, far better than any times he'd fumblingly stroked himself, often not sure if he'd reached a peak of pleasure or not... 

For once, despite his light, almost casual touch, Jordie seemed to know what he was doing - or Kaz' body was so eager for this caress that it didn't matter. Like Jordie had said, it was like nothing else, and yet despite how good it felt, Kaz felt almost cheated when it didn't last very long. After barely a minute of Jordie's gentle circuits over the head of Kaz' prick, down the side, circling up the other side, Kaz' pleasure peaked sharp and urgent and he came, a tiny white spurt bubbling from him. Jordie's stroking fingers wiped it away into Kaz' discarded trousers, and already Kaz felt uncomfortably overstimulated, a Squaller coming down to earth far too fast.

He squirmed off Jordie's softening cock, and tore a corner of burlap from their makeshift bedding to wipe his sore, smeared ass. Then he pulled his trousers on stiffly again and went out to throw the scrap in the canal.

Jordie had dressed himself, too, when he returned. "Kaz," Jordie said, hesitant and tired as though stones were dragging his words down. "Are you all right?"

"Of course," Kaz said, although when he pulled his own shirt on and curled up next to his brother, Jordie's skin felt clammy and unpleasant even through the cloth, and the shivers running through the bicep flung across Kaz made him uneasy, and Kaz' buttocks throbbed dully, more insistently than his pulse had a moment ago. He knew he'd wanted all this but he couldn't understand why any more, as though some unknown class of Grisha had planted the thought in his head. As though he had been drugged.

The thought almost led him somewhere, but before he could arrive, he fell asleep.

In the morning, his head was the sorest part of him, and his throat felt scoured, and he was dizzy when he tried to stand. He thought he saw Jordie hesitate when he reached for the food, but Jordie ate anyway, and slowly, so did Kaz. Despite the food, neither of them had energy for much else. Kaz slipped in and out of dreams, waking one time to find himself nosing at Jordie's skin, licking him, as though Jordie were a plate that Kaz was trying to eat off of. Another time, he woke to find Jordie half undressed, his prick spilling from his clothes, a stain spreading between them as though Jordie had pissed himself, or something else. The only good thing about that time was that he was warm. He didn't know how long that time lasted - later, he only guessed.

And then he woke with the pain in his head sharper, but clearer, his knotting stomach sending him a sharp, clear pain as well, and Jordie was cold beside him, his eyes staring into nothing. 

Kaz was weaker than Jordie had been that second morning, too weak to move at all, too weak to cry out when the men clearing the plague dead tossed him among the bodies to be burned. It was luck that his hands stayed rictus-clenched around a pouch of some kind of fish paste, luck that the rats that might have eaten it on Reaper's Barge stayed away from the swelling bodies, luck that by the third time he ate, the drug in the food barely affected him at all, and he had energy to lend to his desperation as he swam with his brother's body back to the docks.

He'd thought he was changing from adult to child, but in the next few weeks he had to shuck his skin again and become something completely new - savage, unforgiving, unforgivable. A survivor.

He learned about the trick of the Barrel's aphrodisiacs long before he was tempted into ingesting any again. 

He was fifteen when a job for the Dregs required him to go to that sort of pleasure house and eat their food and laugh and leer through what came next like a man too used to perversions to be moved by them. So the first dose, he took alone in his attic rooms, the grate and the door cracks covered for privacy, the mirror covered so that he wouldn't see dark eyes and a sharp chin look back at him.

Groans were heard, usually, when someone took the pleasure-house's drugs, or grunts or gasps. If anyone had been close, to hear the sounds Kaz made alone, they might have been surprised - if they had caught anything at all. Alone in the garret, Kaz sobbed as he stroked himself, letting tears blur eyes he hardly dared to close, lest his brother creep up behind them, staring at Kaz in silent accusation in his mind's eye.

He had been sick with desire the last time he'd touched his brother, and it had been unsurpassable ecstasy, and it had been something as wrong and rotten as the dead flesh that Jordie had soon become. It was the last memory of Jordie Kaz had, and the strongest. Perhaps death and desire would never be truly separate things for the brother who remained.


End file.
